


Let's be lonely together

by TinyThoughts



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Established Relationship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Cares About Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Getting Together, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, Kissing, M/M, Soft Boys, because what is the witcher without a bathtub, men needs to be held too, so much, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyThoughts/pseuds/TinyThoughts
Summary: Geralt will not assume to know Jaskier. Not again.What he knows however is what he has seen. That Jaskier is always the one to reach out. To care, expecting nothing back, getting nothing back even. Before the mountain, especially before the mountain, all the touch he would get was if he was offering pleasure.Jaskier is a starving man, giving away what he has.Geralt hopes to give some of it back, little by little.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 30
Kudos: 180





	Let's be lonely together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endrega_Turtlesse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endrega_Turtlesse/gifts).



> Thank you lovely Jay for indulging me when I run out of ideas of things to write. There is a reddit post going around where a girlfriend wash her boyfriends back and then just holds him, and he cries, and that is just so sad and soft and endearing so that is what we did.  
> Some short softness that we deserve.  
> I have no idea if this made any sense, but it did in my head and im tired and distracted and I wanted to share <3  
> Please enjoy!

Geralt knows Jaskier is a physical person.

Arm touches, shoulder bumps, knocking feet under the table, hanging across someone's back, braiding someone's hair, always always touching. When they are on the path, Geralt is the one soul Jaskier can touch. And Geralt learned not to mind, learned to trust the casual way Jaskier is always nearby.

The mountain changed many things.  
The casual touches changed. Their relationship changed. The way Geralt saw Jaskier changed, the way he learned to see him.

Witchers are supposed to see, yet it took Geralt until now to actually notice.

Their first kiss happened in the rain. It was cold as shit, despite all the clichés of how romantic it should be. Jaskier slipped in the mud, Geralt caught him. They shared one of those long stares, eyes roaming, and then Jaskier leaned in and kissed him.

Good thing too, because no matter what Geralt feels, no matter how much he wants, he is weak. Scared. Of his wanting being too much, being the last push to send Jaskier away.

But it didn’t.

Trust is such a heavy thing. Hard to carry on your own.

And in the rain that day, they changed again.

In a sense, they didn’t change at all.

Lips connecting, hands reaching out, finally, finally reaching back.

And then there are the new kinds of touching.

During the many months they spend together and apart, Geralt tries to see Jaskier. Kind, giving, raging, spitting energy Jaskier.

Geralt is scared, no matter what Jaskier does.

But it’s time not only to take, but also to give.

So Geralt offers up all he is, all he has.   
They talk about renting a cottage by the coast, of course.

They talk about visiting Lettenhove.

What they end up doing is staying the winter in Oxenfurt. They rent a delightful flat above a bakery.

It’s always Jaskier who gives.

It’s always Jaskier who touch. Geralt sees it now.

The water is warm, steaming hot like Geralt always insists it to be. And it smells like lavender like Jaskier always insists it should.

They don’t always bathe together, it’s cramped and unpractical.

Still is, to be honest, but tonight Geralt just want to touch Jaskier, Not to be touched, just touch.

Despite Geralt being the bigger one Jaskier likes sitting behind him, likes to drag his fingers over his back, making Geralt ache and yearn for anything Jaskier would give him.

Not tonight.

Jaskier is already in the bath, leaning against the wood, wiggling his toes just about the surface.

Geralt smiles, Jaskier is so hairy, and when he is in the bath he looks like a wet dog.

  
“One day you are going to let me comb your chest hair. Move over.” Geralt tells him, settling behind Jaskier and wrapping his arms around that hairy chest.

“Rude. I will look like a poodle.” Jaskier says, but smiling, snuggling back into Geralt.

“You already do.” Geralt says, pressing a kiss to Jaskiers cheek. He hasn’t shaved in a while, the stubble is tickling his lips. “Only a drenched one.”

Jaskier slaps a wet hand on Geralt's knee, still above the water, because impractical. It stings, but he chuckles.

They sit there, Jaskier stroking Geralt's knee slowly and humming under his breath. The vibrations of his voice reverberate into Geralt, his smile widening. These moments are the absolute best.

“Pass me the sponge.” Geralt says, shifting to put some space between them.

“Want me to wash your back?” Jaskier takes the sponge and shift too, but Geralt takes it and dips it in the water.

“I got it.” Geralt put the sponge to Jaskiers back, scrubbing gentle circles into his skin.

“Preparing for something nice tonight?” Jaskier smirks, allowing the care and bowing his head forward.

“No.” Is all Geralt says, dipping the sponge again for more water. “Just enjoying myself.”

“What, you love cleaning me?”

“No. I love you.” Geralt quips before he can stop himself.

They have said it before. They have, but Jaskier becomes silent. He lets Geralt wash his back, his hair, scrub soft oils into it. His heart is beating wildly, and even if he is relaxed and pliant, he seems subdued. Sad, almost. Geralt press kisses to his shoulders, pushing Jaskiers wet locks behind his ear.

  
When they have dried off they don’t even change into proper clothes before laying on the bed. Jaskier is still quiet, he is not even singing.

Geralt pulls him close, up ontop of him, head above his heart. His hair is still wet and the drops are cold against his skin when they drop down. Geralt smooths his hair down, ruffling it a little.

That’s when the warm drops fall. Salty tears, quietly dripping from Jaskiers eyes.

Geralt thinks he knows what’s wrong.

He says nothing, only pulls Jaskier closer, holding him in his arms, counting his breath. Jaskiers heart beats hard, like it’s heavy and trying to fall out of his chest. Geralt knows the feeling. The first time Jaskier held him, it was only hairy arms around him that kept his broken pieces glued together.  
So Geralt tries to give it back. A big scarred hand over Jaskiers neck, pressing kisses into his hair, tracing fingers over his lower back.

Jaskiers tears keep falling, and Geralt thumbs them away until his breath evens out into sleep.

Geralt will not assume to know Jaskier. Not again.

What he knows however is what he has seen. That Jaskier is always the one to reach out.

To care, expecting nothing back, getting nothing back even. Before the mountain, _especially_ before the mountain, all the touch he would get was if he was offering pleasure.

Jaskier is a starving man, giving away what he has.

Geralt hopes to give some of it back, little by little.

**Author's Note:**

> Come cry with me on Tumblr!  
> Im Dapandapod!


End file.
